One Last Breath
by Dark Shuichi
Summary: ...she would always have to go back. Staying was the only chance she could ever have to make it up to him, and it would still never be enough. She was responsible…and only deserved what she received. No…she knew she deserved much worse". My 1st HA fic!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Hey Arnold does not belong to me although I wish it did. It/everything about it that I don't muck up is (C ) Craig Bartlett and Nickeodeon!

Now that that's over with, this is my first ever HA fanfic. It is angsty, hopefully suspenseful, and romantic. Please enjoy. Takes place after season 5 minus the "Jungle Movie" arc. Please, please, please review!!!

One Last Breath- Chapter 1

Helga stood in the pouring rain gazing up at her best friends house. She stared at the locked door, hugging herself tightly as the rain soaked through her long-sleeved shirt and jeans, her bare feet frigid in the puddle beneath her, blonde hair sticking to her back. She shivered and fought back the tears she wanted so badly to shed.

She had run. Finally. She had taken off out of that miserable prison they called a house for good. She had only the clothes on her back, her cell phone in her pocket, and some measly change. She didn't know where she would go, but she wouldn't go back.

That was her long-term plan anyway. But at that moment she couldn't quite figure out where exactly to go. Phoebe and her parents weren't home. Now that she thought about it, hadn't her friend mentioned something about going on a trip to Japan to visit family? Or something? It had been weeks ago. Weeks since she had been to school. Just days since she had finally started to walk around again. Eons it seemed, since she had seen the sky.

A pained, self-deprecating smile found its way across her mouth onto her cheeks. A brutal, twisted, sad smile. She had taken off, split, fled. How long would it last though? I mean, how long could she possibly escape the inevitable? It was no ones fault but her own what had happened, the way her life had turned out. She was guilty, very guilty. She knew that she couldn't run or hide, because she would always have to go back. Staying was the only chance she could ever have to make it up to him, and it would still never be enough. She was responsible…and only deserved what she received. No…she knew she deserved much worse.

* * *

She had been in a worse mood than usual that day. Olga was coming home, visiting on her way to some big shindig where she was no doubt going to get yet another damn award. She would brag about her wonderful life--her beautiful baby, fabulous husband, dream home. All in that sickeningly sweet way as if she had no idea that she was condescending and vapid even in her kindness. She'd flounce around and flaunt her gorgeous figure, perfect at 27, with her long legs and tiny waist and nice chest. Helga had her beat there though, some cruel someone somewhere had granted her a lovely pair of C's--practically D's actually. As much as they trumped her sisters B's they were quite a curse. Guys teased her and ogled her all the time.

Helga realized where her thoughts were dwelling and shook her head out of it. She couldn't believe her stupid perfect sister was dropping in again—and right during the week of her birthday. She knew she wasn't going to have a party anyway, but her parents—stretch of the term though it was—might have remembered to at least grunt the words if Olga hadn't been flying in. But she was, and they would forget, and gush over her stupid sister even more than when she wasn't home. And she had no where to go to get away from it because the one place that she escaped to was now over a thousand miles away.

* * *

Helga's stomach turned at her memories. She never could find solace from them anymore. They constantly harped on her, loomed and contorted her life. All of that had happened far way from New York. She used to question if it still would have if they had still been in Hillwood on that day. After all, if they had been she would have left and gone to Phoebe's. Or Slausens, or Gerald field or anywhere but that miserable house. She wouldn't have been cornered. It didn't matter though, and she pushed those old hopes away because they didn't change anything. They had not been in NY, they had been in California, end of story. She was to blame.

The blonde 16 year old continued to stare at the stoop of her once best friends home. What had she been thinking coming there? Phoebe wouldn't have let her in even if she had been in the country. Helga wouldn't have let herself in either. She continued to ponder where exactly she was going to run. And then the rain stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Hey Arnold does not belong to me although I wish it did. It/everything about it that I don't muck up is (C ) Craig Bartlett and Nickeodeon!

* * *

One Last Breath-Chapter 2

Helga was really quite confused. She was still staring at Phoebe's stoop, which was still being drenched profusely, as was the world around her. The sky was still dark, thunder still crashing, and the cold march wind still bellowing angrily. These thoughts only occurred for a few seconds at most, before she whipped around quite suddenly at the holder of the now obvious umbrella.

She went rigid. Perfectly, utterly still. Her eyes captured every plane, every pore on his face. Her pathetic frozen heart shuttered and stuttered as her mouth gaped wide in an unattractive gasp. Green eyes, welcoming and disconcerting at the same time. Slightly befuddled expression. Unruly golden hair.

"A…..ar…." she stammered and took a step back, which he negated by stepping forward and keeping the umbrella over her head. They both waited for the moment when she would get considerably more flustered, and bellow something like 'Criminey why are you sneaking up on me Footballhead?!!'. Yet it didn't happen.

She took a shuttering breath, like she hadn't breathed in years. The glimmer of hope she had seen in his eyes dimmed, and he gave a small smile. "Hi Helga."

She looked at him then, away from his face finally. He was tall, so much taller than her, with broad shoulders, but he wasn't bulky or big—there was a languid strength to his build. He didn't have the boyishness she remembered from middle school in his face anymore, nor the gangly awkwardness. His hair was still a darker kind of sunshine, and messy but not as long. How was it that she had been back at school for a few weeks, and yet hadn't really _seen _him?

"Are you okay Helga? What are you doing out here?" he asked although he already knew the answer. Obviously she was there for Phoebe, but the girl wasn't home. Arnold had just heard from her that morning in an email, she was in Kyoto at her family reunion. They were attending a huge festival of some kind.

"I….uh….I mean…" Helga couldn't meet his gaze. She hadn't talked to him in 3 years, hadn't looked at him since the time she had been back in Hillwood. He hadn't tried to talk to her either, that she could remember. Honestly she couldn't remember much.

Arnold took in the sight of her, so confused as to why she wasn't acting at all like herself. She was completely changed since she had come back from California. She barely spoke to anyone, sat alone at lunch, had he even seen her eat? Their classmates whispered and gossiped all around her, avoided her like a plague. Guys made crude comments about her figure all the time, sometimes really cruel. The Helga he knew wouldn't have stood for it at all. She definitely would have spoken to Phoebe, at least. But this was a different Helga.

"I'm sorry Phoebe isn't home, she's in Japan. I hoped she would have told you, but you've been out of school for a couple weeks. Come with me, back to the Boarding House. You're soaking and frozen." He shrugged out of his red and black varsity jacket and wrapped it around her, then took her hand and began to walk.

"Wait, Arnold you don't have to—"

"Just come on Helga, don't be stupid. I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to help."

'Same old Arnold' she thought. She was too dumbfounded to say anything, too anxious from his voice and his touch and the warmth of his body still radiating from his jacket to refuse. And too empty to comprehend any smartass comments.

His jacket smelled amazing, like crisp, husky sunshine. Like a clear night sky. Like earth and trees and the sweet taste ocean water inexplicably leaves in your mouth after a whole day at the beach. Her inner poet clawed at the surface of her mind as her childhood muse flooded her senses once more. Just for a moment, Helga allowed it to.

Arnold had so many questions for her. What the hell was wrong with her was first and foremost, followed by: what happened to you, why did you leave, why did you come back, why didn't you write, why didn't you call, why have you been out of school these passed three weeks? Are you sick, are you hurt, did something happen in your family? Who took the fire out of your eyes? The list seemed endless. He was determined to ask them because he knew something was wrong. He had always been able to read her, had a sense about what was really going on, most of the time anyway. It was like he had been in tuned to her their whole lives, been able to catch her frequency or something. It wasn't any different for him now. The overwhelming need to_ protect_ her plagued him. Years ago protecting Helga G. Pataki from anything had been complete and utter nonsense.

They walked the familiar path to the Sunset Arms in silence. Arnold was dying to get her talking, but knew it would be hard enough when she was warm and dry much less shivering like a small animal. 'Man is she shivering', he thought. Her hand in his was like ice.

They reached the steps of the red brick boarding house and she stopped so abruptly it nearly yanked him backwards despite their considerable size difference. She was staring wide-eyed at him and the door, looking ready to bolt. His heart wrenched.

"Arnold I don't want to be a problem! I shouldn't barge in on you, I don't have any money, I'm fine really, I'd just be a pain, your grandparents don't want to see me, I don't have any clothes, I'll just be a pain in the ass!" the long hurried string of excuses was the most Arnold had heard from her in three years. Her pale cheeks suddenly blossomed bright red, and it was then that he caught that glimpse of _her _underneath her new frailty. His heart began to beat again.

"Helga, you're not a problem. Everybody will be glad to see you after all this time. They couldn't get enough of you in eighth grade, remember?" At his words they both felt very different yet very similar aches. But he smiled.

Helga shuttered, not from cold, but from the force of seeing him smile again—the magnificent, loving, hopeful smile that belonged to Arnold and no one else in the entire world. She nodded meekly and followed him up the steps and back into the place she had once thought of as home.

* * *

That is it for chapter two! Please review and tell me what you think! I'm itching to reveal what I have in mind, what all the missing pieces are, but I want to hold off and make this really stupendous! I also hope I can stay true to the characters, and yet mold them to the events I have created in their fictional lives. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Hey Arnold is not mine it belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nickelodeon.

You should know this because my name is not Craig, I am not male, nor am I an orange splatter logo thing or cartoon conglomerate.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU ALL! This is for you guys!!!!! ^__^ I promise to update as often as I can with college and life in the way of my true calling—fanfiction! Kidding! …maybe. ^_^ Seriously though, thank you oh so much each of you! Now on to the part you actually read!

One Last Breath- Chapter 3

Arnold opened the door and led a dripping Helga inside, calling out "I'm home!" to no one in particular. He left the umbrella beside the coat rack and slipped off his shoes. Helga would have done the same if she had had any. The foyer was just as she remembered it, from the wallpaper to the staircase to the little table with the phone. Arnold meandered towards the kitchen and she followed. It was empty however, save the pot boiling over on the stove that Arnold hastily turned off.

"Looks like Grandma forgot she was making chili _again_," he rolled his eyes but smiled and Helga's heart did a little giddy flip. "Are you hungry? I can order something." he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, cocking his oddly shaped head to the side and gazing down at her. He realized it felt weird to look down at Helga just as she found it so bizarre she had to look up.

"Um…yeah I…I guess I am." She shrugged and quickly averted her eyes.

He pushed down his discomfort at her vague reply and took her hand once more, leading her back outside and towards the bathroom. "Go ahead and take a hot shower, and I'll call for take-out. What would you like? Pizza? Chinese?" He knocked quickly on the door, pushing it open when no one answered. Helga watched as he reached into the linen closet and pulled down a clean towel and washcloth.

"Chinese is okay. Whatever you want," she mumbled.

"That's great. Honey chicken with fried rice? And two spring rolls." He stated her favorite dish as he backed out the door. Helga blushed and nodded, surprised that he had remembered after all the time that had passed.

"Ok. Oh, um the nozzle is backwards, hot is cold and cold is hot. I'll find you some warm clothes. " He started to close the door as he left and suddenly had a mental image of her under the steaming water. "Take your time!" he blurted and shut the door rather briskly.

Arnold locked the front door before heading up the stairs and to his room. He heard Dino playing his piano, Oskar and Susie bickering, and Ernie and Mr. Hyun in another heated board game…just the sounds of home. He pulled down his ladder and entered his room, still shaking his thoughts of Helga from his mind.

She had certainly changed. She seemed…broken some how. He knew it must have had to do with her family; she'd had a rough time with them her whole life. Things at home had been really bad for her right before they had disappeared.

The rain pounded against the sunroof and he stared up at the sky through the glass. 'That's ironic…rain is what made us meet and now…after 3 years of nothing…'

He opened his drawers and began to search for something that would actually fit her. She was tiny! He had grown to be 6'2'', which he guessed he had his Grandpa to thank for, and filled out due to soccer, swimming, and running. Helga was still kind of tall for a girl, maybe 5'7'', but he couldn't believe how skinny she was. When he had spotted her on the sidewalk in front of Phoebe's house he'd recognized her instantly. But he had been shocked! She just…vanished into her baggy wet clothes. There were dark circles under her eyes, and chalkiness to her complexion he'd never seen there before. He couldn't fathom how physically different she was.

He thought back to the year before she'd left, the year when he had finally gotten to see some of what was under her hard exterior. Middle school—he shuddered at the thought. Those had been the years of hormones, acne, and other far more severe problems he preferred to simply repress. She had been her normal self--grouchy, blunt, loud, rude, and mean, with the glimpses of kindness or vulnerability thrown in that he had caught once in a while. At 13 she still hadn't abandoned her piggy tails, although she wore them lower, or discovered tweezers. She'd taken to wearing a grey sock cap, and hugely baggy shirts and jeans. The others had teased her about what was under the hat, and he'd always had his own quiet suspicions.

As the girls quite hurriedly became way more interested in boys, they increased their merciless taunting of Helga simply because she didn't seem to be interested in the options puberty provided. They had harped on her looks, her personality, and her figure, which everyone assumed was still beanpole straight. By eighth grade they were going so far as to call her a lesbian, which Arnold knew shouldn't have any negative connotation attached, but it had of course.

Then Helga had finally had enough of their bullshit. It wasn't unlike the time she'd crashed Rhonda's party all dolled up, except that time she hadn't been herself at all. In eighth grade she had been nothing but. She came to school in a t-shirt—a girl's shirt, with blousy little sleeves and a rather deep v-neckline. Her jeans had been the perfect kind of tight, showing off the longest damn legs. Not to mention that even the most popular girls had only "bug bites" to flaunt, and then there was Helga. She had quite the figure as he recalled it. That was—Arnold realized—the first time he saw her and thought she was beautiful. She came that day with her hair down, hat gone, and a beautiful stubborn unibrow.

Of course, as is the way of adolescence, instead of her torment ceasing it had only worsened. He remembered how awful and jealous those stupid girls had been for the several weeks Helga had kept up her new look. He had liked it and made a point to compliment her once, only to be met with a severe glare and colorful insult, despite the pretty way her pale complexion had flushed. Most of the other boys who noticed had taken a different approach.

Arnold paused in his reflections, tossing the button down flannel shirt he'd found down on his bed. He moved to his dresser and began to dig around for some sweat pants. He wasn't sure what he thought he was doing, but she seemed to at least appreciate his help. He hoped he could find out what was wrong, and not scare her away or anything. He chose a pair of black sweats with the drawstring still in place and sat back on his bed, returning to his memories.

* * *

_ Arnold turned the corner, hall pass in hand as he made his way back from the main office. It was a nice day outside and he chose to take the long way back to 6__th__ period. He was daydreaming idly about something when he heard shouting coming from behind the gymnasium. Naturally, he stopped to listen._

_ "I said get your ugly mug away from mean!! Beat it asshole! Leave me alone!" The angry feminine voice was all too familiar. Arnold had been hearing it his whole life. _

"_Don't be like that baby! You know you want me." A guys voice replied, smug and cruel. Arnold recognized it as one of the guys who was supposed to be in high school already. 'What-his-name….Lance or something'. _

_He peered around the corner to see the guy pressing a girl against the brick wall, his hands vice grips on her wrists. She struggled violently, kicking and swearing like a truck driver. It was Helga!_

_ "Let me stop all those nasty rumors about ya babe. I know you don't like girls, lemme help ya out!" he leaned in until his face was mere centimeters from hers and she leaned away from him as far as she possibly could with the wall behind her._

"_I said let go you freaking pot headed loser!" she growled and slammed her foot hard down on his instep, bolting when he lost his hold for a second and yowled in pain. She wasn't fast enough though, and he seized her wrist again and spun her around right back into the wall. She hissed through her teeth as the wind was knocked out of her. She was a fighter, she was strong, and still taller than many of the boys in their grade, but her assailant was just so much larger._

_ Arnold clenched his fists as the jerk slammed her against the wall again. He was no match for the guy, still scrawny all arms and legs. He debated frantically about running to get help, but he didn't know how long it would take. Why wasn't she screaming or something? If he left she'd be totally alone, if any other kids came they probably wouldn't get involved. All his hesitation only took seconds, and the deciding factor came quickly enough. Lance took both of her wrists in one hand and pulled her arms up above her head, reaching for her chest with the other._

_ "Let her go you asshole!" _


	4. Chapter 4

One Last Breath-Chapter 4

* * *

_ Lance swore loudly as the rock knocked him square in the forehead, forcing him to stop in his molestation of the blonde girl he'd so nicely cornered. He glared at the scrawny blonde boy who'd thrown the rock. Helga gasped quite audibly as she realized who her rescuer was, her sky blue eyes went from full of rage to full of fear—fear of what would happen to Arnold._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing you shrimp?" Lance turned to stare down the boy half his size, still holding Helga tightly. Arnold blanched but took a step forwards. Helga shook her head at him but he paid her no mind._

_"I said let her go." His voice was harder than she'd ever head it, and it made her tremble slightly._

_"Make me you little shit."_

_Helga screamed as Lance threw her to the floor, giving a severe kick to her stomach that made her cough and sputter. He lunged forwards only to be thrown back with surprising force as Arnold jumped and landed a powerful kick to his gut, courtesy of his grandma's karate training. Arnold reached to help the blonde girl up, but Lance took barely any time to recover, and grabbed Arnolds shirt collar, punching him right in the eye. He popped him across his other cheek and tossed him to the ground against the gym wall._

_That did it. With a growl of rage Helga jumped on his back, tearing at his long greasy hair. He scrambled to throw her off and she clobbered him in the face, bloodying his nose. He staggered. She wasted no time, jumping off and landing a detrimental kick to his lower regions. Lance squealed rather comically and slumped to the floor while Helga hefted Arnold to his feet._

_"You fucking asshole! Stupid, worthless piece of crap!" she screamed and Old Betsy delivered another greeting to the side of his head._

_"Helga—"_

_"How dare you hit him! You don't even deserve to touch him! Piece of trash!"_

_"Helga stop!! Stop it!" Arnold grabbed her fist before she could hit Lance again, and the strength of his hold surprised her. She stared at him stupidly for a few seconds, her eyes trapped in his calm but warning green gaze._

_She pulled away quite forcefully, then grabbed his wrist and took off sprinting with him around the corner_.

Helga ran her hands through her hair as the hot water coursed down her back, rinsing away the cold, the grime, and the wonderful smelling apple conditioner. She couldn't believe that she was actually in his shower. True she had been once before, but that had been under strong influence of disadvantageous Pork Rhine ingestion. She still didn't know how exactly she'd ended up in there.

She sighed heavily, not really wanting to leave the warm comfort of the steam and water. What exactly did she think she was doing? Why on earth had she allowed herself to go with him? How long did she possibly think she could avoid the inevitable, hide and play her game of charades?

She wasn't planning on leaving that shower for a while, but then she heard the voice. An angry, thickly accented voice belonging to a Korean man with glasses and a knack for the guitar.

"How long are you going to be in there?! Oscar if that's you I'm going to kill you! It's my turn for the resteroom! Come out here now!!" Mr. Hyunn banged angrily on the door to his only escape from the raspberries he had been instructed not to eat in the first place. He allowed himself some choice words in Korean as his stomach tossed and turned. "I said get out now Oscar!! You little---oh! "

Mr. Hyunn had to stop himself from stumbling as the WC door quickly swung open to reveal a dripping wet blonde wearing only a towel. Two towels to be exact, one around her torso and the other around her hips, covering her legs quite pointedly.

"Oh my I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to yell at you!"

"Its okay Jackie Chan, just get in here before you explode." Helga quipped and moved out of his way.

"Jackie Chan? No my name is---Aghh!" Mr. Hyunn called after the girl ascending the stairs before fleeing into the bathroom in a hurry.

Arnold sat on his bed still smirking at his memory. Of course he had played the hero, he always had as a kid, for whatever reason. Furious as he had been that some creep had done that to her, he hadn't let Helga beat the shit out of him. He'd been a little scared of her at the moment, never having seen her in such a ferocious rage. 'The weirdest part…was that she wasn't even mad at him for what he'd done to her. She was mad because he'd hurt me…'

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Come in!" He sort of jumped to his feet when Helga pushed open the door.

"Oh here, I found you some clothes. I uh, I hope they fit," he gestured to the shirt and pants on his bed before reaching out and taking the sopping bundle she held in her arms. "I'll go throw these in the laundry."

"No really Arnold you don't have to—"

"It's no big deal. I have some stuff I have to wash anyway."

"But—"

"Its nothing Helga. Get changed." He was gone and the door shut behind him before she could protest further.

"Damn!" Helga swore loudly, looking at the shirt and pants laid out on his bed. His room had changed slightly since she'd last been there. The shelves along one wall now housed an even more impressive collection of music and books. His stereo system bordered on ridiculous in its excellence. There was a new computer on his desk, and a TV on top of a dresser. There were a few pictures and awards on the odd sky-blue walls, from school and sports, including martial arts. She noted quite a few swim trophies and ribbons. Peering at the shelves next to his bed she saw the same fated picture of his parents, one of his grandparents, the borders, neighbors and friends at a huge party on the roof, and one of him and Lila. She scowled.

'So little miss perfect is still around is that it? Perfect, pretty, sweet, oh-so-feminine Liiiila,' she snorted mentally. The photograph infuriated her, Arnold looking dashing in a black suit and light cyan shirt and tie to match the long, slim gown Lila wore. Her auburn hair was twisted neatly at the top of her head; a few perfect little curls framing her blushing, freckled cheeks. They both looked deliriously happy, Arnold's arms around her waist in a perfect little school dance picture pose.

"She moved on in like a nasty little leech as soon as I was gone, that it Arnold? Of course you went to homecoming with her, perfect fucking little princess," Helga grumbled low enough that no one near the door would have heard.

She felt the familiar pulling inside her, the dueling sensations of anger and contentment at the fact that Arnold was with someone he deserved. Someone who was sweet and innocent, who could never possibly do the things that she had, a girl with nothing on her conscience. The familiar feeling of self-loathing returned to her as she dropped her towels and dressed quickly. She needed to leave. She had absolutely no right to kindness from anyone, much less Arnold, her ever-benevolent, kind, warm, true hearts delight. And yet, there she sat on his bed, wearing his clothes, his warm red plaid shirt that radiated reminiscence. She buried her face in the fabric, inhaling his oh so comforting scent.

"Helga?" his voice at the door brought her out of her deluded daydream. She jumped off his bed like it was a hot stove and began to nervously dry her hair.

"Hey...Arnold…"

"Those look like they fit," he gave a small smile. His green eyes traveled along her petite form, her wet hair pooling against her neck and shoulders, much longer than it had been in eighth grade. Her chest, full and rising rapidly under his scrutiny, her long slender legs hidden in the folds of his baggy sweat pants, all the way to her dainty bare toes and tiny feet. Such tiny feet.

"I, uh, I ordered the Chinese. Should be here in about 30 minutes," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously and his gaze settled on his toes.

"Um…good. Thanks Arnold but you don't have to do all this…I should probably get go—"

"Hey Shortman what's this I hear about you havin' a little friend in the shower?" Grandpa Phil burst through the door, cutting Helga off and making the two teens jump. Grandma Gertie trailed close behind, a pair of maracas in her hands and a sombrero on her head.

"Oh why hello Eleanor! Wonderful to see you again! You're holiday has done you good, you look marvelous, and you've come back just in time for Cinco de Mayo! We're just about to play Parcheesi!" Gertie shoved the maracas into Arnold's hands and stepped forward to embrace Helga in a warm hug.

"Ohhh Pookie you know its still only March! And her names Helen for lands sakes! Course ya went and got rid a that one eyebrow!" Grandpa Phil winked at Helga whose face was a brilliant flustered red. "So what have you been up to Helen? What brings you here after all this time, eh?"

"It's Helga Grandpa. And uh…her parents are…at school we…um…" Arnold rubbed his neck nervously and eyed the blonde girl, at a loss for how to explain the circumstances of her presence.

"Eleanor is always welcome Arnold!" Grandma smiled warmly, "I've made chili but I believe you ordered Chinese. When it gets here I'll bring it up for you Kimba. Both of you come on down later if you want to play on my Pictionary team!" She grinned so knowingly it made the two teens blush furiously and quickly ushered her husband out the door.

Authors note: Finally here is chapter four!!! :)

I hope you've enjoyed reading so far!! I have soo many plans! I hope to get chapter 5 up this week, I SWEAR! I've been really inspired by great HA fanfiction that I have read lately and it's made me want to write like a madwoman! 3

Thanks to all my reviewers and readers!!!!!!

Hey Arnold (C) Craig Bartlett and Nick


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